


you're my golden hour

by glowinghorizons



Category: Justified
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 20:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14922653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/glowinghorizons
Summary: It’s not that she doesn’t want to date Tim Gutterson, okay. It’s just-- he’s not the easiest man to read, and she already has enough anxiety in her life. She just wants-- she’s tired of being by herself.It’s not that she doesn’t value herself enough, or whatever, it’s just that it would be nice to have someone to hang out with and cook her dinner for a change. She’s just not sure that Tim is the type. And the last thing she wants to do is get involved with another guy who’s going to end up breaking her heart.





	you're my golden hour

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this in my Google Drive for months and have been debating posting it. I'm not sure many people will read this, but I'm actually really proud of this. Justified and its characters provide the best scenarios and opportunities for great dialogue! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Justified, or Tim Gutterson. 
> 
> Quick note: Constructive criticism is welcome, but anything more negative than that, I'll kindly ask you to refrain.

“Maddie, there’s a man yelling at me with his eyes at the nurse’s station asking for you.”

“Yelling with his _eyes_?”

Marla rolls her eyes, “You know the type. He’s quiet, but if he _wasn’t,_ he’d be yelling. He’s got a badge.”

Maddie sighs. “I got it.” She peels off her gloves and leaves the patient’s room, heading towards the nurses’ station. She sees him before he sees her - he’s leaning against the wall, thumb of his left hand hooked into his belt loop and his right hand resting on his gun, his signature stance.

Maddie thinks she would be able to spot Deputy U.S. Marshal Tim Gutterson from a hundred yards away.

“Can I help you?” She asks, testily.

He looks up, eyes intense as they always are. “You got a fugitive on your rounds?” He asks, no preamble.

“We called--”

“Funny, my phone didn’t ring.”

“Doubt the nurse on call had your cell number, unless you’re just giving it out to anyone these days.” Maddie says, slow, watching his jaw clench.

“We talked about this.” He says, voice low so only she can hear.

“No,” she takes a step closer, “ _you_ talked, and I told you I was doing my job and I’d try to call you if something came up. I didn’t promise you anything.”

“He could kill you.”

“He was half-dead when he got here!” She replies, her arms flailing in frustration. “Have you met Dewey Crowe? He’s helpless.”

“He’s a criminal.”

“He’s in room 105, and you can go down there yourself if you really feel like it. He’s been asleep for hours. Good luck.”

Tim stares at Maddie for a second, his jaw working like he wants to say something, but he just walks past her, eyes darting around the crowded hallway.

She sighs again, her eyes shutting briefly as she tries to calm down - that man has a way of pushing her buttons.

A few hours later, she’s off shift, stepping out in the Kentucky heat. Someone is waiting by her car, and she tenses for a moment until the glare from the sun eases, and she sees who it is.

“Deputy, twice in one day? I must be one lucky lady.” Maddie tells him, and he smirks.

“I’m going to post a Marshal in Dewey Crowe’s room.” He says, and she laughs, outright.

“Are you now? How does your boss figure he’s going to authorize that?” Maddie open the back door of her car, tossing her bag inside.

“He figures that since Dewey Crowe is a wanted fugitive, it warrants the authorities.”

“You can’t have a Marshal in there. The room is too small, and he’s recovering from severe injuries.”

“Maddie, I told you the last time--” He says, shaking his head, but she cuts him off.

“And I told _you_ that I don’t work for you! Jesus, Tim. This is getting out of control.”

Something in his eyes flashes when she uses his first name, but she ignores it.

“Raylan is coming by in the morning. Dewey likes him.”

“Dewey likes me, too.” She says, trying to get a rise out of him.

“I’ll bet he does.” He mutters, moving out of the way of her driver’s side door. “Just-- be careful, alright?”

“I always am.”

.

.

Tim Gutterson is a total enigma. Tim and Maddie met when he had a close and personal encounter with a brick wall, courtesy of one truly dumb criminal. Tim needed stitches and she was the lucky nurse on call that night when the emergency room was suddenly infiltrated with Marshals.

Tim was nice to her, and polite, and she appreciated that he was quiet when it seemed like everyone else was shouting and causing a commotion. It helps that he’s easy on the eyes, too. Madison could write sonnets about his hands alone, but she’d never admit it, not even under oath.

She’s thought about asking him out a few times, but never had the guts to do it. He’s complicated, and she can’t stand the thought of him rejecting her. Plus… she worries she could be way off base. Although to be fair, he never spends as much time talking to her colleagues as he does to Maddie.

“Madison…” A voice sing-songs down the hallway, and Maddie turns, spotting the unmistakable figure of Raylan Givens.

“If you’ve been shot, you should go to the trauma center.” She says, smirking. “If you’re just here to flirt with Kelly, she’s off today.”

He smiles sheepishly. “That obvious, huh?” He leans against the wall, hand on his hip. “So, Madison--”

“Maddie.”

“ _Madison_ ,” he plows on, “Care to fill me in on why Deputy U.S. Marshal Tim Gutterson was so irate when he came back to the office after coming down here yesterday?”

Maddie smiles what her mom calls her “southern belle smile” -- “I think if Deputy Gutterson was in bad mood, then it sounds like a personal problem.”

Raylan rolls his eyes, smiling. “You two are so cute.”

Maddie opens her mouth to tell him where to shove it, but the doctor on duty comes around the corner, so she stops, crossing her arms over her chest. Raylan smirks smugly at her, but greets the doctor.

“I’m here to talk to Dewey Crowe. I promise not to get his heart rate too high.”

“Ten minutes,” the doctor says. “He’s scheduled to get a few stitches and a concussion test.”

Raylan tips his hat, and then he’s walking down the hallway, but not before getting in one last parting shot. “Maddie? Just have some pity on the man and get a cup of coffee with him, will you? He’s becoming more unbearable than usual to work with.”

.

.

.

It’s not that she doesn’t _want_ to date Tim Gutterson, okay. It’s just-- he’s not the easiest man to read, and she already has enough anxiety in her life. She just wants-- she’s tired of being by herself.

It’s not that she doesn’t value herself enough, or whatever, it’s just that it would be nice to have someone to hang out with and cook her dinner for a change. She’s just not sure that Tim is the type. And the last thing she wants to do is get involved with another guy who’s going to end up breaking her heart.

And she knows he has his own stuff going on, too. Would he really let himself get tied down like that? She doesn’t think so. She remembers the day she ran into him at the bank soon after giving him stitches like it was yesterday.

_“It’s Madison, right?” A quiet voice at her elbow asks, and she looks to see the Marshal that she stitched up the week before._

_“Maddie.” She smiles. “You’re Deputy--”_

_“Tim.” He interrupts._

_“Right. Tim.” She fidgets, unsure if she should say anything else. He’s the one that started talking to her, after all. “Long line today,” she blurts, and then makes a face at herself. What is she doing? Small talk?_

_The corner of his lips twitches like he wants to laugh, and she feels a little less embarrassed. He opens his mouth to say something, but as soon as he does, there’s a loud_ bang _by the front lobby, and he seemingly does three things at once - his right hand flies to the sidearm on his belt, his left hand grabs her free arm, and his upper body twists so he can see the front door._

_“Everybody on the ground!” A voice yells, and Maddie flinches, trying to get down instinctively._

_Tim, still holding on to her arm, shoves her down, lowering himself to his knees next to her. “Keep your head down and don’t move. If they try to make you give them something, give it.” His voice is calm, but tense, and Maddie shivers._

_“Are you deaf?” The voice asks again, closer. Maddie shuts her eyes. “I said to get on the ground.”_

_“It’s called the floor when it’s inside.” Tim says, dry, and then there’s a muffled_ thump _before Tim’s left arm lands near her head, bracing himself. Maddie sneaks a glance to see him holding his stomach._

_“Next smart word out of your mouth is going to be the last one.”_

_“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Tim warns, lifting his shirt slightly so his badge glints in the light. “You’ll have a whole mess of problems on your hands if you kill a Marshal.”_

_The robber swears, and takes off quickly back to the front to confer with his buddies. Tim slumps down next to her._

_“You okay?” He asks, and Maddie looks at him incredulously._

_“Me?! He probably broke two of your ribs.”_

_Tim shrugs. “I’ve had worse. Listen, the teller pressed the buzzer, I saw her. The police will be here any minute. Just keep your head down.”_

_“What are you going to do?” Maddie asks, her eyes wide with worry._

_“Nothing stupider than I’ve done before in my life, don’t worry.” Tim mumbles, hoisting himself off the floor. “Alright, which one of you dipshits wants to be the first to be arrested?”_

_The police show up in a few minutes, and it all happens very quickly. Maddie waits while Tim is on the phone, presumably to his boss, and when he hangs up, he walks back over to her, looking annoyed. “I have to get back and do some paperwork. Are you sure you’re alright?”_

_“I’m fine. Someone should look at your ribs, Deputy.”_

_“I’ll get them checked out later. I need to get back to the office.”_

_“Don’t be so stubborn.” Maddie implores, and he shakes his head._

_He looks like he wants to say something else, but is debating with himself. “Look,” he finally says, handing her a card, “Seems like trouble follows you around. If you need anything, or if something comes up you think might be trouble, call.”_

Since then, she’s only called him once -- Boyd Crowder was in their waiting room, and she wasn’t an idiot. She knew he was wanted. He was gone by the time Tim and Raylan showed up, and she felt stupid. Since then, she’s kept the card in her wallet, but hasn’t used it.

She keeps telling herself she doesn’t need it, doesn’t need whatever white knight thing Tim Gutterson has going on, but another part of her sort of likes the safety net he’s provided her.

When she gets home, she kicks off her shoes and heads to the bathroom to shower and change out of her scrubs. She spends as long as humanly possible in the shower, soaking up the hot water and feeling it ease the strain on her tired muscles.

As she’s brushing out her hair afterwards, her doorbell rings, and she frowns, trying to remember if she made plans that she’s somehow forgotten about. When she opens the door, she sees a surly teenager standing there, holding out a bag of takeout.

“Here you go, ma’am.” He says, and she winces, because _ma’am_? Really?

“I didn’t order anything, sorry.” She says, “The neighbors--”

“This is the right address. 634 Magnolia, right?” He says, looking back at his clipboard.

“It is,” Maddie says, “But like I said, I didn’t order anything.”

“It’s been paid for.” The delivery guy says, and hands Maddie the food unceremoniously. “Enjoy.”

He’s gone before she can say anything else, and she’s left standing there with an armful of Chinese food takeout containers and a receipt. When she gets to the kitchen, she sets everything down carefully and looks over the receipt with a frown.

It quickly turns into a blush when she reads the note at the bottom:

_Thought you could use the food after dealing with that dumbass all day. Don’t forget the fortune cookies. - TG_

She rolls her eyes, but can’t stop the smile that spreads across her face when she realizes Tim Gutterson bought her dinner. “He couldn’t have taken me out to eat in an actual restaurant, huh?” She grouses to herself, despite the smile on her face.

She falls asleep feeling full, content, and still somehow confused that night.

.

.

.

Maddie’s pager goes off in the middle of the night. She groans when she hears it on the nightstand, because she only feels like she’s been asleep for a few hours. Her phone starts to ring soon after, and she rubs a hand over her tired face before she reaches for it.

“Hello?”

“I’ve been paging you for an hour.” Marla says, testy, and Maddie cringes.

“Sorry, I must have really been out. Everything okay?”

“Got a situation down here. Dewey Crowe popped his stitches and is refusing medical attention unless he gets it from ‘that pretty nurse’,” Marla tells her, and Maddie rolls her eyes.

“Marla, really? No offense, but can’t you just tell him to sit down, shut up, and stitch him up?”

“Sure, but he’s also saying that unless we discharge him right away, he’s going to start taking hostages.”

Maddie blinks. “You’re kidding. How’s he going to do that without bleeding out?”

“Just get down here as quick as you can, okay? One of the girls went in there a few minutes ago and hasn’t come out yet. I know he’s dumb as a bag of bricks, but I hope--”

“Don’t even think the worst. I’ll be there soon, okay?” Maddie says, already getting out of bed so she can get dressed.

When she hangs up, she sighs, trying to wake up and get her bearings. The last thing she wants to do is go back to the hospital, but if this guy is refusing treatment, she has to go. She rolls her eyes. _Fuckin’ Dewey Crowe_.

When she gets to the hospital, it’s clear that the situation has escalated since she talked to Marla. Her pulse starts to race when she sees a few state police cars out front and she hurries up to her floor, stopping in her tracks when she sees the Marshals in the hallway, talking to each other in hushed tones.

“Marla,” she says when she gets to the nurse’s station, “Did you call them?”

“Had to, didn’t I? That idiot took a scalpel from Mary and is threatening to shiv her with it if we don’t discharge him.”

“Is she hurt?”

“No. Honestly, I think he’s too scared to do anything, especially with the Marshals ready to put a bullet in him if he so much as breathes in the wrong direction, but who knows? I didn’t want to leave her in there.”

“Is he still asking for me?”

“A few minutes ago he did. You know, you always catch all the good ones.”

Maddie rolls her eyes. “Okay. Well, I guess I’m going to--”

“If you think you’re going in there, you’re out of your damn mind.” A rough voice says, and she turns around to see Tim, eyes blazing.

“Deputy--”

“Madison,” he says, his voice deeper than he’s ever heard it, “You are not going in there. He’s got a knife--”

“So what was the point in me dragging myself out of bed to get here, then?”

Their glaring contest is interrupted by Tim’s boss. “Madison? Nice to meet you. Art Mullen. Listen, we don’t want anyone else going in there on a count of how Dewey Crowe is likely to kill himself trying to stab someone, and we don’t need his blood on anyone else’s hands, you see?”

“Sir, with all due respect, if he’s asking for me, I need to go in there. He could bleed out if he doesn’t get his stitches redone, and I need to get Mary out of there.”

“I appreciate your dedication, but we’re not in the habit of negotiating with criminals,” Art says, smiling. “You can wait out here with Deputies Gutterson and Brooks, and you’ll be able to check on your patient after we resolve this.”

“Sir--”

“ _Maddie_.” Tim’s voice is sharp. “Just… just wait out here, okay?” He asks, and Art looks vaguely amused before he heads back over to where Raylan is conferring with a state trooper.

“He’s going to bleed to death,” Maddie says, accusingly, “And then you won’t ever be able to question him about Boyd Crowder, or whoever else you need information on.”

“The world will not miss him.” Tim says dryly, leaning against the wall.

Maddie stands there for a few minutes, fuming, when finally she sees her opening. Art and Raylan have their backs turned, and she state troopers have moved down the hall, which leaves the door to Dewey’s room unguarded.

Without thinking, she bolts.

“Madison!” Tim shouts, but before he can get anyone’s attention, she’s halfway through the door, slamming it shut behind her.

“Maddie!” Mary says, surprised, and when Maddie assesses the situation, she sees exactly what she thought she would - Mary is sitting on the edge of Dewey’s bed, and he’s slumped against it, sweating profusely. Maddie can see where he’s bleeding through his shirt, and while he does have a scalpel, he’s barely hanging on to it.

“Mr. Crowe, absolutely everyone out there is talking about you.” Maddie says.

.

.

.

Tim sees red after Maddie bolts across the room, his outstretched arm missing her elbow by a half inch. She’s in the exam room before he can get anyone’s attention, but the slamming of the door has everyone on alert, Raylan and Art’s hands flying to their sidearms.

“What the hell?” Raylan asks, and Tim rolls his eyes.

“That girl is going to get herself killed.”

“How did she get passed you?”

“Shut up.” Tim says, trying to peek through the blinds of the room to see what’s going on in there. It’s relatively quiet, just low voices, so he relaxes slightly, but he can’t help but be on edge every second that she doesn’t come out of there.

He doesn’t know how he let Maddie get under his skin like this.

He glances at his watch on the inside of his wrist. “Two minutes, and I’m going in there.”

“Tim, you can’t shoot him.” Art says.

“Why not? We’re in a hospital.”

“Jesus, can you all please remember that we are dealing with Dewey Crowe?” Raylan says, “He’s not going to hurt her, and if he does, we’ll shoot him. Okay?”

Tim glares. “Two minutes.”

.

.

.

“First of all, you need to quit being a pain in the ass and let Mary out of here. Give me that scalpel while you’re at it.” Maddie says.

“I am not doing a damn thing until I am told I can leave.” Dewey says.

“Do you want to bleed to death? Because that’s what’s going to happen to you if I don’t fix those stitches and make sure you didn’t tear anything.”

Dewey grumbles, and then a knock on the door.

“Dewey Crowe, this is Raylan Givens. You’ve got about two minutes before we come in there.”

“I am not coming out of here until I’m promised I can go home!” He shouts back, and Maddie rolls her eyes.

“Dewey, when I said you had two minutes, I didn’t mean before I come in to get you. I meant you had two minutes before Deputy Gutterson gets his rifle.”

Dewey visibly pales.

“Look,” Maddie says, getting his attention, “You’re making this worse than it has to be. You don’t want to actually die, do you?” She waits for a response, but he doesn’t say anything. “Why me?” She asks, curiosity getting the better of her. “All these nurses, and you wouldn’t let anyone help you.”

“You were nice to me,” He mumbles.

The room goes quiet, even the scene outside, and Maddie wonders how many people heard what he told her just now. Even so, he’s still a fugitive, and he’s still technically holding someone hostage, so she’s not expecting this to end well if she can’t get him to cooperate.

“You have to give me that scalpel,” she says quietly, “And let Mary out of here. I’ll stitch you up before anyone is allowed to come in.”

“60 seconds and ticking, Mr. Crowe.” Art’s voice filters in through the closed door.

Dewey thrusts the scalpel in her direction, and Maddie quickly shoves it in a drawer, out of reach. “Mary, give me hand cleaning this up, will you?”

Together they get Dewey’s wound cleaned up and Maddie fetches a suture kit out of the cabinet. Right before she’s about to begin, the door bursts open. Everyone jumps, and Maddie curses.

“Madison, get out.” Tim’s voice is sharp.

“Don’t shoot me!”

Maddie rolls her eyes, “No one’s shooting anyone, Dewey. Sit still--”

“Maddie--” Mary warns, but Maddie shakes her head.

“I’ve got a job to do and I’m going to do it, if you all don’t mind.”

Someone chuckles; Maddie thinks it was Raylan.

“Mary, are you hurt?” Art’s voice filters through the chaos.

“No, sir.”

“Great. Madison? After those stitches go in, the cuffs come on for Mr. Crowe.”

Everyone leaves the room to let her finish up, all except one brooding Marshal who takes up his post by the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, scowling. Maddie does her best to ignore him, but she’s acutely aware of his gaze taking in every detail about the room, including her.

“All set, Dewey.” She says when she finishes. “Look, don’t do anything stupid. Just-- give it a rest.”

He glares at her and opens his mouth to respond, but Tim beats him to it.

“I’d be very careful about your choice of words in this moment, Dewey.”

A shiver rolls up Maddie’s spine at his voice, because he sounds _pissed_. He takes a few steps forward, brushing against Maddie’s shoulder as she moves out of the way to let him take Dewey into custody. On his way out the door he slows, leaning in, “Don’t think we’re anywhere near done talking about this.” He says, and Maddie rolls her eyes.

“I’m going home after I give my statement.”

His eyes flash. “Fine.”

He leaves with Dewey in tow, and Maddie wonders what the hell she’s getting herself into.

She gives her statement to Deputy Brooks on her way out, and an hour and a half later she’s finally home, sighing when she unlocks the door and toes off her shoes, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep there for the next two days.

Not long after she’s made herself a cup of tea, there’s a firm knock on the door, making her jump. She can see his outline through the frosted glass, and a swell of nervous energy rises up inside of her. Pulling open the door, she raises her eyebrows, not saying a word.

“Can I come in?”

“I really need to get some sleep--”

“It’ll just take a minute.”

Maddie steps aside to let him through, idly noting that this is the first time he’s been here, and it’s making her feel vulnerable. She shuts and locks the door behind her, watching warily as he looks around, his sharp gaze cataloguing everything.

“You’re angry.” She says, and he inclines his head in her direction.

“I’m-- no, I’m not angry.”

Maddie snorts. “ _And_ you’re a terrible liar.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You could have gotten hurt.”

“I needed to do my job.”

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” He takes a half step closer. “I asked you to do _one thing_ \--”

She narrows her eyes, “You didn’t _ask_ me to do anything! You waltzed in and _demanded_ I listen to you as if you have any right at all to tell me what I can and can’t do.” Anger sizzles in her veins, and as she keeps talking, she takes a step forward, jabbing her finger into his chest. “You think because you’re some high and mighty U.S. Marshal you can just--”

“ _Deputy_ U.S. Marshal--”

Maddie glares, ignoring him. “-- that you can just go around telling people what to do! Well, I’m not some fugitive that you’re--”

“Goddammit, do you ever stop talking?” He asks angrily, but distantly he’s aware that his voice is more husky than angry.

He can’t stop looking at her mouth.

“Madison--” he starts, tone weary but firm.

“And if you think I’m going to let the fact that you have a badge change how I do my job, you’re--”

“Maddie, I’m going to kiss you.”

She stops. “You _what_?”

“Oh, fuck this,” he mutters, before taking one long stride towards her and taking her face in his hands, her eyes fluttering shut the last thing he sees before he bends and takes her lips in a hard kiss, one that’s more anger and frustration than anything else.

After a few seconds, he softens, his hands sliding down her arms until one arm winds around her waist and the other threads into her hair, the long strands like silk between his fingers.

Maddie is _floored_. She’s dreamt about this, sure, but she never ever thought it would happen. It’s so much better than she could have imagined. She leans into Tim, relishing in the feeling of all his hard lines pressed against her curves, and sighs into his mouth, the sound seemingly spurring him on.

His long fingers are tracing mindless patterns across every inch of bare skin he can find, and when his hands slip under the hem of her shirt, she shivers, breaking away from him, panting.

“What… what--” She stutters, and he smiles at her, a lopsided smile that completely transforms his entire face.

“Look, I’m--” he runs a hand over his face, “I’m pretty shit at this. _Dating_.” He says it like it’s left a bad taste in his mouth. “I work long hours and I’m in a bad mood ninety percent of the time and I drink too much.”

Maddie blinks. “I work long hours and I’m in a bad mood a lot, and I drink too much coffee.”

He narrows his eyes, “Are you-- are we _arguing_ about who’s the worse person?”

She shrugs. “I have it on good authority that I’m a pain in the ass.”

Tim snorts, the sound of his laughter so unfamiliar but so lovely to Maddie’s ears that she can’t help but smile at him as he stands close, crowding her against the wall at her back. “I think I might be willing to vouch for you, Madison.” His voice is deep and causes a shiver to run through her. “What do you think about that?”

.

.

.

_2 months later_

“Can we _please_ just wrap this up and get back to the courthouse?”

Rachel glares, “Can you _please_ stop whining for one goddamn second?”

Raylan’s eyes widen in surprise before he laughs. “You’ve really done it now, Gutterson.”

Tim glares right back at the both of them. “We were supposed to be back by one o’clock--”

“Really sorry this fugitive isn’t cooperating with your schedule,” Rachel says sarcastically, before Raylan stops her tirade.

“You two better quit it. Gutterson’s just all up in arms because he’s got a girl waiting for him,” he leans forward from the backseat, a shit-eating grin on his face, slapping a hand on Tim’s shoulder, “Don’t you?”

“I will end you.”

.

.

The ride back to the courthouse seems excruciatingly long to Tim, but it’s sort of worth it when the elevator doors open and he sees her sitting there on a bench, head tipped back to lean against the wall, eyes closed.

“Is she-- is she asleep?” Raylan asks.

“Wouldn’t be surprised.” Tim replies, taking a few steps closer.

“She’s awake, and she can hear anything you’re going to say about her,” Maddie says, cracking one eye open. “Hi Raylan, Rachel.” She glances up at Tim. “And you.”

Tim rolls his eyes.

“That’s our cue.” Raylan tips his hat, “Madison.” He leads Rachel back into the Marshal’s office and Tim sighs in relief once their gone, their prying eyes too much for him on a day when nothing has gone according to plan.

“I called,” he says, but she’s already shaking her head.

“I know. I just--” she shrugs, “I knew this was going to be hard.”

Tim’s stomach swoops. “Hey,” he crouches down in front of her, “Don’t talk like that. I’m sorry, I am, we just got stuck--”

“I know.” She smiles, but it’s not a full smile. She looks tired. “I know, it’s not your fault.” Her voice lowers to almost a whisper. “I just miss you.”

Tim’s eyes fall shut and a curse escapes his lips. This is the absolute last thing he wanted. When they decided they were both tired of the dance, the game of it all, he knew it was going to be tough. God knows he has his fair share of issues, and she does too. Doesn’t make seeing her like this any less difficult.

“Okay. Come on.” He says, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet.

“Where are we going?” She asks, alarmed.

He presses a swift kiss to her cheek. “Follow me.”

He opens the double doors to the Marshals’ office and marches inside, pulling her alongside him. He’s dimly aware of the stares and the whispers, but he finds he doesn’t much care.

“Chief?” He asks, knocking on the glass door. “Got a minute?”

“Tim,” Maddie is trying to get his attention through a hissed whisper, “What in the flying fu--”

“Art, I need the afternoon off.”

Art looks vaguely amused. “I seem to recall a few warrants you’re supposed to be checking on.”

“Checked on them.”

“You sick or something?” He asks, eyes twinkling. Maddie pinches Tim’s side, hard. He only flinches a little.

“No, I’m not sick, but I’d appreciate it if I could use some of that personal time you’re always telling me I need to take.”

“Uh huh.”

“See, I made Madison here a few promises lately and I had to break them, and I don’t really feel like setting a precedent for our relationship.” Inside, Tim is panicking, because this is a stunt if there’s ever been one, and there’s an eighty percent chance that Maddie will murder him in the middle of his workplace if he plays this wrong.

“I see no reason why you shouldn’t take off.” Art says.

“Great. Thank you.”

He waits a minute before gesturing that Maddie should leave the office before him, only partially sure that she’s not going to try to kick his ass. She goes out ahead of him and waits by his desk for him to grab his keys and his jacket, eerily calm.

In the elevator, they stand there for a second before she hits the ‘stop’ button.

“Look, I’m sorry I did that in front of everyone--”

“You took a day off for me.”

He swallows, and shrugs. “Yep.”

Her grin is slow, but blinding. “Tim Gutterson, you old softy.”

He rolls his eyes. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.” He pushes the button for the elevator, trying not to smile when her hand slips into his.

“I won’t tell anyone. Wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation as a tough guy.”

He snorts. “Good.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to his jaw right before the doors open.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, let me know at my [Tumblr!](http://dreamingundone.tumblr.com)


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